


Things I Can't Deal With

by LKChoi



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Madness, Other, Reflection, Self-Acceptance, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:10:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LKChoi/pseuds/LKChoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crona reflecting on a few things</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things I Can't Deal With

**Author's Note:**

> This is a character study, a short one-shot fic that focuses on aparticular character. That focus is Crona. For the most part this was prompted by the fact that my housemates always tease me when i'm anxious saying that I am Crona. So, admitting that on some of my worse ays there is true in that I decided to write this fic. Sorry for the angst. It is Crona after all. Enjoy ^^

A slit in the door let in a strip of light piercing the darkness. A curvy shadow is cast as Lady Medusa comes to retrieve me. A wicked grin crawled across her face whenever she saw me in spite of my fear. It was time for the black blood injections. Searing, striking and painful as it pumped into me. My skin crawled as it fused with my own blood. It is the red and black that brought me and Ragnorak together. Gave Ragnarok the thirst for souls. Gave me the power to destroy them.

 

These memories. I can't deal with...

 

She shoved me back in that darkness when the work was done. I held myself recoiling in the corner as Ragnarok called me useless and beat me. No light. No hope. No escape. I had only those pathetic sounds to keep me company. The sounds of my suffering, his aggression, and a phantom me crying out. Screaming:

 

“I can't deal with this!”

 

A lot happened when the meisters came to get me. They thought I was bad, and called me a kishin. They couldn't figure out my gender. Am I a monster? Am I a witch? Am I a meister? Am I a boy or girl? Am I good or evil? What does it all mean? Does it really matter?

 

I can't really deal with my identity anyway

 

They tested me. I passed. They accepted me cautiously. I passively abided their rules. What else was there for me? Madusa was gone. This place was new and strange. Bustling halls full of busy anonymous faces. Powerful and eccentric teachers. Some with golden hair and a gentle smile. Some with bolts and stitches. Others zombified. Gleaming individuals who offered me comfort and new experiences. A new beginning. Friendship.

 

Something I've never dealt with.

 

The battle of madness began. I was too weak to fight it. Trapped in my mind I could hear a voice bursting from my body. Laughing, dizzy and senseless and a thrashed about wielding Ragnarok with abandon. I went far away from the battle, to a barren sanctuary in my subconscious. Yet my shadow spoke against it. Challenged my retreat. Disrupted my inner peace.

 

I couldn't deal with myself.

 

Then Maka came. Small, cute and innocent. Not gloomy and lost like myself. Her presence made me anxious and afraid. Of all the painful experiences that drove me into that circle: her smile was the scariest of all. She stepped forward and shook my soul. She erased the line and held out her hand. She freed me from the madness. Freed me from myself. As she held me and fainted against me I could feel that generous heart against my own. I had no idea it could beat like that.

 

These new feelings...

 

This new me.....

 

Maka....

 

I can't deal with it.

 

Maka told me to write a poem, and despite my nerves I tried it. So happily she wanted to read it, and so did Marie. After a look they both shrunk into the corner and wished they had never been born. One after another, so did the others. The loudly hyper narcissistic Black Star was quieted. The cynical dull and self-confident Soul also was defeated. Even the undead Sid wished he never came back. We sat against that wall with regrets and sadness. I couldn't deal with that poem either so I joined them in wallowing. Yet, some part of me felt happy.

 

I can't deal with many things.

Now I know that I don't have to deal with them alone.

 


End file.
